


Game of Choices

by prettybirdy979



Category: Sherlock (TV)
Genre: Angst, Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-05-18
Updated: 2013-05-18
Packaged: 2017-12-12 04:50:47
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,575
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/807454
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/prettybirdy979/pseuds/prettybirdy979
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>"Hello, hello dear Inspector! Today we have a Game of Choices. The boy you raised from birth or the boy you raised from the sewers. Which son do you choose?"</p>
            </blockquote>





	Game of Choices

**Author's Note:**

> Based on [this](http://prettybirdy979.tumblr.com/post/48201759561) by trueamericanenglish on tumblr.
> 
> Thanks to PipMer for looking this over.

It wasn’t a nice dream he was having.

He could hear Jamie screaming for him and no matter how fast he ran his son was always one step ahead. But somehow Greg could see his face, eyes wide and full of pain.

_“Daddy! Daddy! Daddy”_

He jolted awake as he realised that the cries were real. Jamie must be having a nightmare and damn his ex-wife for terrifying him with tales of Greg’s work. He tried to get up, to comfort Jamie...

The handcuffs dragged him back before he made it more than a few centimetres. Greg blinked then finally took in his surroundings. He was alone in a deserted and darkened theatre, handcuffs tight around both wrists and keeping him in an old seat.

And Jamie’s voice was still calling for him.

“Daddy! Daddy!”

“Jamie!” Greg cried. “Jamie, I’m here. Where are you?”

Someone started to clap. “Finally our guest of honour awakens. Dear Inspector, you are such a bore when you’re sleeping.” A spotlight appeared on stage and a short, dark haired man wandered into it. He looked at Greg with a smirk.

“Moriarty.” Greg breathed.

“Oh no. Speak up Inspector! This is a play, everyone has to hear you.” Moriarty moved across the stage, tracked by the light. “And you don’t have a mic. Oops. You’ll have to shout.”

“And if I don’t?”

“How many children do you have again Inspector? Five? Delightful things aren’t they, especially sweet Eloise with her imaginary friend Sebbie.” Moriarty paused as that sunk in, then called out, “Sebbie, could you please put the light on our guest?”

Greg blinked in horror as the spotlight turned on him for a moment before darting back to Moriarty.

“What do you want?” He called, using every trick he was taught to project his voice.

“A show.” Moriarty said with glee. “Shall I begin?” Greg nodded. “Speak! Or Ellie meets Sebbie in a bad mood.”

“Yes! Start!”

“You’ll play along?”

“Yes.” Greg all but sighed. “Yes, I’ll play along.”

“Excellent! Now, music.” A quiet, creepy instrumental began to play and the curtain behind Moriarty rose.

“Hello, hello dear Inspector. Today we’re playing a game of choices.” Moriarty indicated to the left and another spotlight appeared there. Greg gasped. Jamie was standing there held by a masked man with a gun to his head. “The boy you raised from birth or” Moriarty indicated to the left as it was lit to reveal Sherlock, his face covered in blood and a heartbreakingly familiar drugged look on his face, “the boy you raised from the sewers. Which son do you choose?”

Pick between Sherlock and his son? It should be an easy choice but... “No!” Greg cried. “No, I can’t.”

Moriarty glared. “You have to Inspector. That’s the game. Pick one, the other lives. You get to take them home, kiss them goodnight and know it’s all your fault. Don’t choose, they both die and you don’t get to kiss anyone goodnight.”

Sherlock was gagged and at that moment it became obvious why. He began to struggle to rise while making frantic noises. He managed to rise to his knees before the drug affected his balance and he fell backwards, attracting Moriarty’s attention.

“Oh Sherlock, you have to stay still. This isn’t about you, it’s about Daddy. Stop moving or I’ll make you stop moving.”

Sherlock glared with unfocused eyes then tried again.

“Sebbie.” Moriarty said in a bored tone. A gunshot rang out. Greg watched Sherlock in horror, waiting for the slow spreading red that would show where he had been shot.

It took a moment for the pain in the side of his head to register. When it did all he could do was count his blessings it was not Sherlock.

“Sebbie, you missed!” Moriarty said in mock horror. “Next time Sherlock, the shot will be in his shoulder not the chair beside him. Your doctor survived a gunshot there, can your detective?”

Sherlock’s doctor. John. Where was John? Greg saw how Sherlock’s eyes widened momentarily as the same thought occurred to him. John would not let Sherlock disappear without coming for him.

John was coming for them. They just had to stall for time.

“Now. Where were we?” Moriarty strolled to centre stage. “Ah yes. Inspector, have you made your choice?”

Greg bit his lip. “I can’t. Moriarty, I can’-”

“You can or they both die!”

“I need time! Let me think. Please.” Greg cried, a breath away from tears.

“Very well. Five minutes only. Or you’ll be picking which one dies first.”

Moriarty nodded at a man offstage, who came on and ungagged Sherlock. “You can talk, Jamie boy. Convince your Daddy to save you.” With that, he moved to sit on the edge of the stage, content to watch them decide.

Greg took a stuttering breath as a tear rolled down his face. “Jamie, are you okay?”

“Daddy, I’m scared.” Jamie sobbed.

“Shh, James.” Sherlock slurred from beside him. “Don’t talk.”

“Uncle Sherlock?” Jamie seemed to notice Sherlock was there beside him for the first time.

“Yes James. Hush now, your father and I are talking and you know the rules when I’m talking.” Sherlock didn’t take his eyes from Greg.

“Listen closely and I’ll learn something?”

“Yes James. Lestrade, you know what choice you have to make. Don’t make it harder on yourself or James.”

Greg’s blood went cold as he grasped the implications of what Sherlock was saying. “You want me to pick...Jami-”

“No!” Sherlock growled. “Me. It’s the logical choice.”

“Uncle Sherlock-”

“Jamie, please. Be quiet. When your dad picks, look at him, look only at him and do not look at me.” Sherlock turned slightly to look at Greg’s son. “Remember what I told you about always observing?” Jamie nodded and Sherlock continued. “This is one time I was wrong. Now look at your father and do not stop.”

“Sherlock, I can’t” Greg said, another tear joining the ones falling down his face.

“Time!” Moriarty cried with glee and Greg knew that wasn’t five minutes but didn’t care because he couldn’t it, he couldn’t.

Sherlock shook his head. “You have to. Greg, pick me!” He screamed.

“Fine!” Greg met Moriarty’s delighted eyes. “I’ve chosen. I pick Sherlock.”

Moriarty smiled. “Good choice.” He stood. “Bring the boy here and shoot him.” He declared, his eyes on Greg.

“What, no!” Sherlock cried.

“You said I got to choose who died!” Greg roared at the same time.

“I lied.” Moriarty said as the terrified Jamie was dragged centre stage.

“Daddy?” He cried.

“Look at me, look at me.” Greg called. “It’ll be alright, please Jamie, look at me. I promise, it’ll be alright.”

“And you call me a liar.” Moriarty said, rolling his eyes. “Sebbie?”

“He’s busy.” A voice said offstage and John Watson advanced on Moriarty carefully, his gun pointed at the man’s head.

“John, you’re late.” Sherlock slurred.

“Your brother made us stop for cake.” John joked. “Let him go or your boss dies.”

Moriarty sighed and nodded at his man. Jamie was released and the gun lowered. It took a moment for him to realise, but the moment he did Jamie raced for his father, jumping off the stage into a barely controlled fall and all but climbing into Greg’s lap. Greg tried to comfort him as much as his handcuffs allowed him to, placing his head on Jamie’s shoulder.

“You got Mycroft involved. How dull.” Moriarty said with disappointment.

“Well, I’m not in this for the entertainment.” John said, “Though shooting you now would be fun, I’m sure.”

Greg whispered into Jamie’s ear. “Don’t look darling, don’t look. Just hold onto me and don’t look.” His son’s grasp on him tightened and Greg could hear and feel his tears.

“You could.” Moriarty said in a bored tone. “Or you could run so very fast. After all, little Ellie is still sitting at home alone wondering when Daddy is coming back. Would be a shame if someone had left something...explosive there.”

“You bastard.” Greg said.

“Why Inspector, you really are fun. I think I might play with you again sometime.” He looked at John. “If you want your detective’s precious daughter to live, you won’t shoot.”

“Next time.” John said and in that tone of voice, it wasn’t a promise but a statement of fact.

“Maybe.” Moriarty said with a smirk as he turned his back on John and walked away. Greg could see the tension in John’s muscles as he watched the criminal mastermind just walk off.

“Mycroft, secure Greg’s other children.” John said once Moriarty was out of sight. It took Greg a moment to realise John was wearing a wire and not talking to thin air.

“Daddy are we safe?” Jamie asked.

Still handcuffed to a chair and yet Greg felt able to say “Yes Jamie. We’re safe. Uncle John is there to protect us.”

“Okay.” Jamie said, somehow getting his head closer to Greg’s. “Can we go home?”

“We can, once someone uncuffs me.” Greg said, the last part of the sentence said in a near yell with a glare at John and Sherlock.

John blinked as Sherlock tried to stand and fell over in one movement. “I’ve got it.” Sherlock declared.

“You’ve got nothing but a concussion.” John snarked. “Bed rest for you.”

Sherlock groaned and Greg rolled his eyes as he realised he had been forgotten again by the two on stage.

Back to normal then.


End file.
